


Truth or Dare: Puck's Dream II

by ifinkufreaky



Series: Puck's Dream [2]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Drinking Games, Exhibitionism, F/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Truth or Dare, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-19 12:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: A few days after her encounter with Ubbe and Hvitserk in Ivar's shower, Ivar takes the reader to a party at their frat house. Things get heated when they all join in a game of Truth or Dare.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash/gifts).



> This came from a series of Tumblr prompts, where people submitted dares and truths to me for the game. I'm pretty pleased with what came out of it.
> 
> Text in bold denotes the prompt lines.

**“I dare you to answer me only with ‘’Please daddy’’ and ‘’Thank you daddy’’ for the rest of the game.”**

You can’t help it, your eyes go straight to Ivar’s after Ubbe finishes pronouncing his dare. Your boyfriend is glaring at his brother through narrow eyes. He looks a little like a snake about to strike and when that gaze flits to you, the chill that descends down to your heels is absolutely delicious. Then he smiles, indulgent, pleased with whatever he sees in your face, and nods.

You turn to Ubbe, eager to have rules that require you to flirt with him now. “Yes, daddy,” you agree. Ubbe’s brow arches and you realize you didn’t quite do what he said. “Yes, thank you daddy,” you quickly correct yourself.

His throaty chuckle is pleased. He lifts his arm up over the back of the sofa, indicating the empty space one of his frat brothers just vacated. “Would you like to come sit next to me?”

Ivar’s hand twitches on your knee, but now you’re in the mood for games.

You gaze squarely at Ubbe. “Yes, please, daddy.” You don’t dare look at Ivar until you’ve crossed the little circle the truth-or-dare players have set up at the back of the party. You smooth your skirt under your thighs as you take a seat beside Ubbe, inhaling at the pleasure that fills you when his arm comes down around your body, pulling you cozy and close.

You’ve barely spoken to him since he came all over your tits in Ivar’s shower a few days ago. His smell takes you back to that night, instantly, and you cross your legs as warmth starts to pool there.

Finally you gather the courage to look back across at Ivar. His chin is in his hand, elbow resting on the arm of the loveseat you just vacated, and he looks like he’s plotting a most humiliating revenge for this.

 

* * *

 

**“I dare you to give someone a lapdance”**

You had been so focused on the way that Ubbe’s fingers were secretly tickling the back of your neck that you lost track of whose turn it was in the game. You aren’t the only distracted one, it seems, because the speaker of that dare has to repeat themselves.

“Ubbe Lothbrok. I’m daring you.”

His eyes whip around to a skinny girl with strawlike hair. You think her name is Margrethe?

She’s grinning and sitting back, elbows spread on the arms of her chair. “Give someone here a lapdance.”

It’s clear she means herself. Ubbe makes a growling kind of sound, so low that you’re probably the only one close enough to hear it.

Your shoulder feels cold when he removes his arm. You bite your lip and look down, trying to hide your disappointment as Ubbe stands up.

His hands clamp roughly onto your knees, startling you. He spreads them wider, until he can fit his body between them. Someone turns the music up as he starts undulating like fucking Magic Mike on the floor in front at your feet, pointedly NOT looking at anyone but you.

He sets one strong arm on either side of your head, rearing toward you without really touching as his body rolls, face skimming your neck and cheek. His eyes look like something you could drown in.

“What do you say?” Ubbe asks softly, beard tickling the shell of your ear.

“Thank you daddy.”

 

* * *

 

**“I dare you to send everyone here the dirtiest sex text you can think of.”**

Great, they gave Ivar a fucking essay question.

You look over and see that his face has not lost the glower that began when Ubbe pulled you away from his side. A thrill of nerves disturbs the languid heat that’s been passing between you and the elder Lothbrok for the past ten minutes, but the fear of Ivar’s eyes does nothing but turn you on more. Ivar reaches back with an exaggerated sigh, pulling his phone from his pocket and settling back into the chair. “This will take some time. Let the game go on while I’m working.” His eyes flit up from the glowing screen, locking onto yours. “Button. Truth or Dare?”

You can’t help but slide an inch away from Ubbe under the weight of that glare. Gods above, which was the safest choice?

You decide you’d rather be humiliated physically than verbally. “Dare.”

Ivar grins like the Cheshire Cat. “Give Hvitserk a lapdance.”

You look around the circle. “But he’s not playing.”

Ivar rolls his eyes. “He is around here somewhere. Go find him and climb him like a pole.”

 * * *

**“I dare you to give Hvitserk a lapdance … Go find him and climb him like a pole.”**

Ivar’s command rings in your ears as you stumble through the crowded frat house. You look for the errant Lothbrok in the kitchen first, hoping to catch him making his next drink. No luck there, but you grab a plastic cup and fill it up at the keg. Having something in your hand makes you feel a little less nervous wandering through this party full of strangers.

Making the stop also gives you enough time to realize you’re being followed. Ubbe and Margrethe, and a few others from the circle are trailing behind to watch you fulfill your dare. Ivar does not appear to be with them; he must be working really hard on that text message.

You wink at Ubbe, but frown as soon as you turn away from him. If that girl is Margrethe, you’re pretty sure you heard that she used to hook up with him. And maybe Hvitserk too. Even though you have no claim on those two, you still feel irritated. She seems kind of shallow, like the type to just use people for her own gratification.

Ultimately, you find Hvitserk out back, smoking a cigar with a few of his frat bros. You stop in the doorway; he hasn’t seen you yet. He’s gesturing wildly, caught up in what looks like some intense conversation. How the hell are you supposed to interrupt that for a silly dare?

Margrethe giggles just behind you, and her hip bumps yours a second later. “Aww, is she too scared to do it?”

You twist your neck to see that her and Ubbe just about collided with you when you stopped short. _And_ that she has twisted one of her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she delivered that snarky comment.

Ubbe looks a little bit like a deer caught in headlights. His wide eyes _might_ be apologizing to you for her attitude, but he’s not manning up and saying anything about it.

Now you’re just angry enough to charge down the back steps. One of Hvitserk’s friends gives you a nod, causing your target to turn before you have to think of any way to interrupt him. He cuts off his own sentence as he recognizes you, face lighting up in a wide, lazy grin.

“Hey, you!” His arm comes up wide to pull you in for a hug. You’re happy to stagger against him, and decide the best course of action is to just go for it rather than trying to make any kind of awkward conversation with his friends first.

Luckily there’s a speaker out here, and the music has enough beat to get right into it. “We’re playing truth or dare,” you announce. As soon as Hvitserk releases the hug, you set a hand on either one of his hips to steady yourself and then drop your ass to the floor. You bounce three times, staring up the line of his body, and then pop back up as gracefully as you can. “I’m supposed to give you a lapdance.”

Hvitserk’s smile gets darker. He takes one last puff of his cigar, then hands it off to his friend so he can grasp your hips with both hands. “But I’m not sitting down.” He pulls you into his hips with a swift thrust and then sways in time with you, one knee pressed between your legs in a soft gyration aimed at getting you all hot and bothered.

“I think I’m technically in your lap,” you say, pressing yourself against him harder, trying to ease the ache in your clit that instead only keeps growing. The darkness out here is making you feel bolder, even if there’s a couple of guys standing around that barely have any idea what’s going on.

Hvitserk doesn’t seem to be capable of any shame. Barreling right past any premise of game-playing, he leans in and kisses you hard on the mouth. You find yourself moaning and opening to him, too far gone yourself to protest. Before you know it, he has your back pressed against the wall of the house, plundering your mouth as his hands slide up, down, and across your tits in big messy handfuls.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to touch the talent,” you tease once he lets you up for air.

“Are you having fun?”

“Hell yes.”

“Then fuck the rules.” He catches your nipple through the fabric and gives it just the right amount of tug.

You wonder if Ubbe and Margrethe stayed to watch this. Before you can look, you hear your phone make Ivar’s text message ding. A half a beat later, you can feel Hvitserk’s vibrate in his pocket, currently pressed up against your hipbone. Hvitserk ignores it of course, still kissing you madly. He has no idea this is part of the game.

“ _Shit,_ Ivar,” you hear Ubbe curse, low and impressed. He must be standing close, and he must have just read the message.

“I gotta see this,” you mumble against Hvitserk’s mouth, pulling your phone out of your bra just as his hand starts sliding up under your skirt.

“Really?” Hvitserk asks, fingers finding the edge of your underwear and trying to creep inside.

You turn your screen on with one hand and hit the ‘new message’ notification, head twisted to the side as Hvitserk starts working a hickey into your neck.

_When I get my hands back on you, Button, I am going to make you scream so loud this whole party might get shut down. I am going to spank that luscious ass until you beg me to stop, and then I am going to pound that needy pussy of yours until you forget any other lover you’ve ever had. So by all means, have fun with this little “game” we’re playing, but don’t expect to be able to walk tomorrow. Or talk, after I’m done with that lovely throat._

Hvitserk’s fingertip plunged into your pussy somewhere in the middle of that. You’re sure he found it soaked.

 

* * *

 

Everyone is staring when you get back to the circle. Everyone read that text. Everyone knew it was specifically about you. You’re a little bit surprised no one felt awkward enough to quit.

Ivar himself is glowering in that loveseat, arms spread out like it’s a goddamn throne. His grin is nothing short of evil when he catches sight of you, crossing the room with Hvitserk in tow.

At least that boy had the good sense to stop holding your hand before Ivar could see. You’d pushed him off you shortly after reading the text, but Hvitserk was barely dissuaded. “If that’s the kind of game you all are playing back there,” he had said, “I am so in.” Even gave your ass one last squeeze as he followed you back into the house, and kept touching you right up until you were in the range of his brother’s eyes.

You jump when Ubbe loops his arm through yours, catching you up out of the hypnotism of Ivar’s stare. Margrethe is pulling him to the couch, and he pulls you along after. “Come sit by me.”

“Thank you daddy,” you remember to say.

If Ivar were to tell you to do anything at all, you would do it. Immediately. He is still your Dom, before and after tonight’s game. But he doesn’t question your choice of seat, gives you no directions at all. His eyes simmer, watching you with a smirk as you sit down with his brother, mirroring Margrethe on his other side. He’s having just as much fun as you are.

“’Daddy’?” Hvitserk chortles. “What do I gotta do to get you call me that? After I was practically—” You cut him off with a sharp look and a hiss. Hvitserk studies Ivar’s face, then understanding dawns. “Oh, I see what that text was about. Yeah, I definitely want to get in on this game.” There’s no room left on the couch, but he plops down on the floor next to your knees, resting his back against the plush piece of furniture.

Margrethe releases a loud, theatrical sigh. “Whose turn is it now?” Her sour face rounds on you. “Right, it’s _Button’s_ turn.”

Ivar’s face turns murderous, but she’s facing you and can’t see it. No one is allowed to use that pet name but him.

“Since Hvitserk just joined, maybe you should ask him to do something. Something that involves someone other than yourself. Otherwise this game is going to get boring.”

Hvitserk scowls at her, and Margrethe just pokes her little tongue out back at him, curling a little closer to Ubbe.

She’s a bitch, but she has a point. “Ok Hvitserk,” you say, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Clearly he doesn’t feel like giving Margrethe any satisfaction.

You think about how little shame Hvitserk displayed in the back yard just now, and you know what your question will be. **“What was your most embarrassing moment in public?”**

Hvitserk’s face cracks into a wide grin. “Well, off the top of my head… there was one time, this crazy _bitch_ decided to kick me out of bed, right into the hallway of her seventh-floor dorm… without giving me my clothes back.” His eyes are fixed on Margrethe.

One of the other girls in the game gives a theatrical gasp. “What did you do?”

“Well,” Hvitserk replies, crossing his hands behind his head and leaning back, “it was still early, right? And a lot of people’s doors were open. Everyone was looking. Her neighbors were all on her side, but this one girl took mercy on me and gave me a sock. A single, hot pink sock.”

“Master has given Dobbie a sock!” someone interjected, and Hvitserk grinned wider.

“So I stuffed my twig & berries in there, and marched right down that hall.” He winked at the ring of listeners. “And let’s just say someone else liked what they saw before I even made it down to the lobby.”

 

* * *

 

**“What’s your favorite sandwich?”**

Hvitserk’s eyebrows are waggling as he waits for you to answer. You blink at him, trying to decide if this is an innocent question, or if he’s trying to instigate something here. You glance at Ubbe, whose eyes are gleaming. You know which way _he’s_ taking the question.

“What kind of Truth is that?” Margrethe huffs. But her lips press together and you see the gears turning in her head.

The last one you look at is Ivar. He is leaning forward, fingers curled under his chin, exaggerated interest in his eyes. “Depends on how she answers.”

You gulp. “Um… grilled cheese?”

Ivar laughs softly, leaning back and saying something under his breath. No one else probably caught it, but you know he just called you ‘good girl.’

Hvitserk looks disappointed. Ubbe just nods with a wry smile and sits back.

“You guys are boring,” Margrethe complains.

“You could quit, then,” Ivar counters. “No one is making you stay.”

Margrethe tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I want to play at least one more round.”

“Fine,” you say. “Truth or Dare?”

Margrethe opens her mouth, but Ivar speaks for her. “She will answer a Truth.”

Her face startles, her body freezes. She doesn’t argue with him.

Your stomach sinks at what looks like a conditioned reaction to his Dom voice, the one that you have too. Was she once submissive to Ivar?

You take a deep breath. Ivar is staring at you now, waiting for you to think of a question. All you can think of is something from one of those stupid icebreaker activities teachers use on the first day of class. **“What is one thing that most people think about you, that is absolutely not true?”**

Margrethe’s fingers play in her hair while she thinks about it. “Somehow I got kind of a thot reputation. But I’m actually the most loyal, and classy, person you will ever meet. _If_ I get treated right.”

Hvitserk bursts out laughing.

 

* * *

 

**“What is the craziest place you’ve ever had sex?”** Margrethe asks Ubbe. She’s wearing a shit-eating grin, and you just know she’s thinking of something they once did together.

“Ivar’s shower.”

You’ve drank too much not to chortle out loud, and just to rub it in Ubbe winks at you.

Margrethe is apparently not quite ready to back down. “Still marking new territory eh? I always loved doing that with you.” The acid in her smile could strip paint as her eyes flit to Hvitserk. “And was the top bun of your sandwich there too? It wouldn’t be like you to leave him out.”

This time your sharp inhale makes some kind of strange snort, and Margrethe looks at you smugly.

“Don't give me that look, you can't have thought it was their first time doing that.” Her condescending tone makes you want to rip a chunk out of her hair. She turns to Ivar before you can think of anything smart to say. “Did _you_ know, that they did that?”

Ivar scoffs at her. “Nothing happens without my awareness, you should know that by now Margrethe.”

She flinches, just a little. Who wouldn’t, when Ivar looks at them like that? But she’s got one more card to play, and she straightens her spine before she throws it down. “Well did you know Hvitserk had your little Button pushed up against the wall out back, with his tongue down her throat just now?” She smirks and presses on when Hvitserk sits up, looking worried. “You might want to smell his fingers, I lost track of one of his hands when it went under her skirt.”


	2. Chapter 2

One of Ivar’s brows forms a perfect arch, but other than that, his lack of reaction is his only reaction. “First, do not use that name. Only I call her ‘Button.’” Ivar nods his head at Margrethe until she nods too. “Second. Do you think I did not expect what Hvitserk would do, when I sent her out there so hot and bothered? Who could resist my girl in such a state.”

Margrethe’s brow furrows. “You’re not jealous?”

Ivar looks over at you before he answers. “A little jealousy can be an exquisite spice. But we all know who she belongs to.” His admiring eyes trail down to your neck, and his expression changes suddenly. “Truth or dare, Button,” Ivar asks, something dark in his voice.

“It’s not your turn,” Ubbe huffs.

“I don’t care.” He leans forward. “A little foreplay, I can excuse. But only I am allowed to _mark_ you.”

Your hand slaps against the skin still bearing the memory of Hvitserk’s mouth. You had forgotten to check if he actually had produced a hickey.

“I’m sorry, Ivar,” Hvitserk says. “I got carried away.”

“Truth. Or. Dare.”

He doesn’t seem angry, not really, just… dangerous. “Dare, sir,” you whisper.

Ivar looks fractionally pleased, and he waves you over. You smile nervously as you sit down next to him, to which he responds with an increasingly wild look. He wraps one arm tight around your waist, drawing you in. His familiar scent comforts you and primes you for the unpredictable both at once. He grasps you tenderly along the jawline.

**“I dare you not to scream.”**

His hands tighten as he holds you in place, giving you no time to react before his jaws close around the side of your neck. There is a fraction of a second where you can enjoy his lips and tongue against your flesh, then he bites down, hard and merciless. Your attempt not to scream is only partially successful; he gave you no time to brace yourself. A high-pitched squeal leaks out of your gritted teeth when the pain hits, trailing off into a throaty purr when the sensation activates a mirroring stab of arousal deep in your core, as only Ivar can do for you.

He holds on longer than usual. When you try reflexively to pull away from the pain, he holds you down, only releasing his deep, sucking bite when he’s satisfied he’s raised a mark dark enough to cover the spot where Hvitserk marred you.

He makes a satisfied sigh when he finally lets go. Lifting your chin higher, he inspects his work. “Much better.” He releases your jaw and gives you a little push toward the party. “Go play some more.” He lifts his eyes across the circle. “You may have her back now Hvitserk, if you think you can remember the rules better.”

Hvitserk’s smirk is tinged with anticipation.

Ivar’s eye turns further down the couch. “And you, Ubbe… you can have your turn back.”

You’re not sure if you want anyone but Ivar, after that. You’re tingling all over. But you do as he directs. Hvitserk has taken your seat on the couch, and shifts only a little, so that you can squeeze yourself between him and his brother. Ubbe lifts his arm over the back of the couch behind you, and Hvitserk’s hand lands on your knee as soon as you settle in.

 

* * *

 

It’s Hvitserk’s turn to give a dare. From the way his hands have been slowly sliding over your body during everyone else’s turns, you assume he’s going to ask you to do something now, but he looks straight at his brother. “Hey Ubbe, remember that thing you do when we’re really bored? I **dare you to narrate a porn for us**.” Ubbe looks a little sheepish, but he won’t refuse. Hvitserk hops over the back of the couch. “I'll grab my tablet and find you a good one.”

A lot of people use the wait as an excuse to get up and refill their drinks. Ubbe bends his head close to yours, murmuring in your ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you, how good you looked the other night, rocking on top of me.”

You’re so focused on the feeling of his beard brushing against the side of your neck that you jump when Ivar shakes his near-empty cup for your attention. “I’ll take another vodka tonic, Button.” It’s silly, but you’ve always enjoyed serving him even in simple ways like that.

Ubbe catches your arm as you climb to your feet. “A Jack and Coke for me, while you’re up?”

“Yes daddy,” you answer swiftly, “thank you daddy.” You’re so proud of yourself every time you remember the rule, and Ubbe looks proud of you too.

Ivar may think he’s still smiling, but his teeth just look gritted. Is that rule annoying him? You bend down to kiss your boyfriend on the cheek before sweeping off to the kitchen. Ivar’s hand cracks over your ass in a proprietary little spank, and when you turn in surprise his face looks more relaxed.

When you come back balancing three cups between your fingers, the seating arrangements have changed. Everyone is gathered around Ubbe on the couch so they can see the screen of the tablet he’s holding. His face is already a little pink with embarrassment.

You come up next to Ivar, still in the overstuffed chair beside the crowded couch. You hand him his drink with a slight curtsy that hopefully no one notices. You could sit down with him again, but then you wouldn’t really be able to see the screen. Ivar wraps a hand around the inside of your knee as you stand between his chair and the couch instead, craning your neck to see the bodies starting to slide against each other on Ubbe’s screen.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Ubbe’s deep voice booms, loud enough to be heard over the party music, “let me play with those boobies.”

The assembled group breaks into laughter. You make a halfhearted effort to extend Ubbe his drink, but he’s too busy to notice you.

“Your dad must have been a baker, because you’ve got a nice set of buns.”

He’s trying to be cringy, but with the sexy rumble he’s giving his voice, you’re finding even the cheesy lines a bit arousing.

Hvitserk sidles up to your right side, leaning against the corner of the couch, taking Ubbe’s drink from your hand and gulping a swig. “Thanks, cupcake,” he smirks, then wraps his arm around your waist.

“Um, that was Ubbe’s.”

Hvitserk leans into your neck. “He’s busy. We’ll get him another one later.”

Ivar’s thumb starts idly stroking your left inner thigh, just above the knee.

“Ooh yeah, time for some deep sea diving!” Ubbe exclaims to riotous laughter.

“I’ll do the girl,” Margerthe shouts. “Don’t come up for air until you find the sunken treasure!” She then proceeds to make her best throaty sex squeals as the male actor on the screen starts licking his partner for all he’s worth.

Hvitserk groans into the crook of your neck. “Ugh, that’s almost as bad as the sounds she actually makes in bed.” His big hand slides over your ass, then starts pulling up the hem of your skirt. “I much prefer your little squeaks.”

Hvitserk caresses the back of your right thigh, while Ivar’s hand is still curled around your left. You wonder if Hvitserk even knows it’s there. His fingers try to slide between your thighs, higher than Ivar’s soft grip.

“Open your legs for me.” He’s whispering in your ear now, so you know Ivar didn’t hear it. You grip the back of the couch and act like you’re just shifting your weight, stepping your right foot out wider. Instantly Hvitserk’s fingertips trace up the path you’ve cleared for him, sliding along your panties for a few teasing passes before he finds his way under and makes contact with your sex for the second time tonight.

You shiver and swallow a gasp as Hvitserk swirls two fingers against your entrance, gathering moisture to let him slide up to your clit.

“That was a good snack, but I’m ready to get my dick wet now,” Ubbe roars.

“Yes, baby, yes,” Margrethe moans.

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it with my dick.” It almost sounds like Ubbe means that one.

You can’t stop your body from trembling as Hvitserk works your clit, expertly sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. You don’t dare to look at Ivar as his hand starts sliding up your left leg.

On the screen, the male actor has indeed started humping his partner’s eager face. Ubbe has taken it upon himself to make the sound effects more real by smothering Margrethe’s mouth with his palm while she attempts another round of ridiculous moans.

Ivar’s hand reaches the apex of your thighs. You finally look down at him. He grins devilishly, and Hvitserk doesn’t even slow down. Ivar forces two of his blunt fingers directly inside you.

“Ah!” you can’t stop yourself from crying out at the sudden intensity. You clap your hand over your mouth as half the party whips their heads around to look at you.

Bending over the back of Ubbe’s couch, you just look like you were leaning in to see better. No one can tell that Ivar and Hvitserk both have their hands stuffed inside your panties.

“Ahhh…” you repeat again, more exaggerated this time, trying to pretend you were just looking to steal Margrethe’s thunder. Hvitserk freezes, but Ivar’s fingers are still inside you. He even wiggles them a little, tapping at your g-spot.

“You think you can do better?” Ubbe invites, ignoring Margrethe’s offended noises. “Come on over here. And where’s my drink?”

Slick as an eel, Ivar removes his hand from your drenched pussy. Hvitserk follows suit. Ivar shakes your body with another slap to the ass. “Looks like you’re up, Button.”

You snatch Ubbe’s drink from Hvitserk’s hand. “Right here,” you answer. “Thank you daddy.”

 

* * *

 

After a very embarrassing attempt at helping Ubbe finish his porno dare, the game has moved on without you again. Keeping you glued to his side, Ubbe has been taking every opportunity he can get to croon the filthiest things into your ear. “I can’t get it out of my mind, the way your tight little pussy gripped my cock so good,” he says as he clutches you closer to him on the couch. “I have to feel you like that again.”

“Ask Ivar,” you reply, flipping your hair like you aren’t melting at the very idea.

Ubbe scowls and refuses to take his ice blue eyes off of yours. “You forgot to say ‘please, daddy’.”

You squeak as his hands tighten around your waist.

“I never said what would happen if you didn’t follow the rule, did I?”

You squirm and shake your head, pussy tingling at the sudden image of Ubbe punishing you.

But Ivar’s voice distracts you both. “Margrethe. Truth or Dare.”

Really? Why would he choose her? So far everyone had been trying to get her to leave mostly by ignoring her.

Margrethe feigns indifference. “Oh, you’re letting me pick this time?”

Ivar simply inclines his head.

“Ok. Dare me.”

Ivar sits back. “Since you seem so intent on showing off tonight, I dare you to suck on my fingers for thirty seconds. Show us your very best blowjob.”

He extends the first two fingers of his right hand toward her. Your mind flashes instantly to where those fingers have so recently been.

Margrethe’s smile seems just a little false. “Ok.” She flutters her eyelashes and leans forward from her seat on Ubbe’s left. “Come closer, I can’t reach from here.”

Ivar just gestures with a wide sweep of his arm to the floor at his feet.

Margrethe huffs, and looks around the room before she moves. Finally she makes what she probably thinks is a seductive face at Ubbe and drops languidly off the couch onto her knees. She crawls up next to Ivar’s legs, and makes sure to kneel at an angle that will let Ubbe and the other males in the room see her face when she gets to work.

This is going to be a train wreck.

Ivar dangles his hand, two fingers still extended, in front of her face. Margrethe grasps his wrist and brings them slowly to her lips. She licks just the tips before she slowly pulls them into her mouth and you realize you don’t really want to watch this. What the fuck is Ivar up to? Sure, there are open boundaries on your relationship, but Margrethe? Fuck no.

Just as you are about to turn away, the bitch locks her eyes right onto yours. You can’t let her see that she’s getting to you. You stoneface her as she sucks Ivar down all the way to the knuckles, and in your mind you scream _how’s it taste, bitch?_

Her eyes flit to Ubbe when she can’t get a reaction out of you. She starts moaning a little around Ivar’s thick fingers as she bobs her head up and down.

Ivar looks at his watch and sighs. “Twenty seconds left. Is that all that you’ve got? Feels like a dog is licking my hand.”

Margrethe scowls up at him, and her cheeks hollow as she pulls at him harder.

Ivar still looks skeptical. “Wow, Margrethe, you literally suck at this.”

Her next moan sounds a lot more like a growl.

“Fifteen seconds left. I didn’t think it was possible, but it feels like my dick might be retreating inside my body.”

The girl is a fighter. Rather than giving up, Margrethe squares herself toward Ivar, coming up higher on her knees to give him her very best effort.

“You know you are not supposed to use your teeth, right? You’re not eating corn on the cob.”

Ubbe snickers beside you.

Ivar finally locks eyes with you, and the two of you share a triumphant little grin. You’re not usually mean, but this moment just feels exceptionally satisfying.

And then you see in his face the moment that Margrethe crosses the line.

You both look down to see her hand sliding into his lap, groping for his dick. Ivar thrusts her away with the hand hooked into her mouth, making her choke a little before she falls back on her ass. “I did _not_ give you permission to touch. You couldn’t have it then, and you can’t have it now,” he snarls at her.

“You know what, Ivar? Fuck you.” She looks up through her tousled hair at Ubbe, then Hvitserk, for sympathy, and finds none. “Enjoy your blue balls,” she calls to them as she gathers herself up and staggers out of the circle.

Everyone is silent for a moment. Ding dong, the witch is dead.

“Since it’s no one’s turn, now,” Ubbe suggests, “how about we get a better show than Maggie could deliver.” He swivels and looks down at you, looming just a little with one stray lock falling into his face. “I dare you to suck on my fingers like that.”

Before you can answer, Ivar cuts in. “No.” His voice still sounds a little ragged. “She can suck Hvitserk.”

Hvitty’s grin is so innocently joyous that you can’t help but smile when you look over at him, even though the idea of performing for so many watchful eyes sends a jolt of nerves through your body. You give Ubbe an apologetic look and knock back the rest of your drink.

Hvitserk is bouncing on the balls of his feet as he crosses the circle to you, like he feels like the luckiest boy in the room. Ubbe does not make room for him on the couch, so he comes to stand squarely in front of you instead, thrusting his hips forward and extending two fingers right in front of his crotch. He humps the air in front of your face a few times, getting a few laughs out of the spectators.

You scoot forward to the edge of the couch so your mouth can more easily reach.

“That’s it, Button,” Ivar says. “Arch your back, so we can admire your body while you work.”

You look up through your lashes at Hvitserk, flashing him a private smile before you open your mouth for him, broadening your tongue without quite sticking it out, like you’re preparing to receive whatever he wants to put in there.

“Don’t you love how she presents her mouth like that?” Ivar comments.

“Good training,” Hvitserk replies, successfully guessing that this is something Ivar likes for you to do.

“I will start the thirty seconds whenever you begin.”

Still holding his first two fingers out like they are his dangling cock, Hvitserk thrusts his hips forward until he has pressed his fingertips to your tongue. Your lips close around them a moment later, your eyes still locked on his as you swirl moisture around them.

Fuck, you can still taste yourself on him.

You lick around up to his second joint, then suck down, letting him feel the strength of your cheeks.

Ivar’s voice interrupts you again. “While usually I appreciate how you like to take your time, Button, you have so few seconds left to show off with. Take him deeper.”

_Yes, Sir._ You follow his direction, sucking the whole length of Hvitserk’s fingers into your mouth. His own jaw has gone a little slack, his boyish grin turning into something more serious.

“And don’t neglect the balls, Button.”

The rest of Hvitserk’s fingers are curled into his palm; it looks enough like a ballsack for you to reach up and stroke, eliciting a few more giggles from the spectators. You bob your head faster up and down, trying to make it look good.

“That’s right, Button,” Ivar encourages. “She looks good like that, does she not, Ubbe? You want to touch her ass, don’t you.”

You preen a little, sticking your butt out further as you suck Hvitserk up and down.

But Ivar doesn’t say what you’re expecting. “Well, you can’t. You just have to sit there and watch her gag on his fingers. Don’t be shy, Hvitserk. She can take it. Push your fingers down her throat.”

The sadistic bastard. You should have known he was being too easy on you tonight, too nice. Now he’s going to make you pay his price for all this fun. You relax your throat as Hvitserk presses harder.

“She can go really deep, don’t hold back.” Even after that scene in his apartment the other night, you hadn’t quite realized just how much Ivar gets off on putting you on display. But you can hear it in his voice now.

You try to keep your face pretty as the discomfort in the back of your throat builds. This is a skill, that is for certain, ignoring the urge to gag for as long as you can.

It’s not always easy to control your noises, though they do seem to be part of the appeal for guys like Ivar. A strange gulping protest sound starts coming from your throat as Hvitserk tests your limits with his plunging fingers. You catch a glimpse of the fire in his eyes and realize he gets off on this kind of thing too.

“Doesn’t she look pretty with something in her mouth, Ubbe?”

Vaguely, you feel him shift on the couch beside you. “Isn’t her thirty seconds about done by now?”

You’ve held down your gag reflex longer than this before, but tears are starting to form in the corners of your eyes from the effort.

“She is done when I say she is done,” Ivar pronounces.

Ubbe’s answering growl sounds equally dismayed and aroused.

“You are doing so good for me, Button,” Ivar says, praise deepening his voice. “Just a little longer.”

Hvitserk in his eagerness is pressing his whole body in toward you, forcing you to retreat back into the couch. Ubbe’s arms are there to catch you regardless of what Ivar said.

“That’s enough,” your Dom finally declares.

Hvitserk pulls his fingers from your mouth somewhat reluctantly, holding them wet against your cheek as you gasp for breath. His eyes have gone black as he leans in close to your tear-streaked face. “Now I can’t wait to feel the real thing,” he whispers.

 

* * *

 

A quick bathroom break turns into something else entirely, when you spot Ubbe waiting to intercept you in the dim hallway leading back to the party. He leans his head against the wall casually, but the hungry look in his eyes is anything but.

You flash him a nervous smile. Something about his predatory gaze suggests that you might be better off walking right past him, to land safely in Ivar’s arms.

You try to do just that. Ubbe reaches out and catches your hand as you pass him, his body still glued to the wall, eyes begging and demanding both at once. “What’s your rush?”

His grip on your fingers is firm, but you could break it. Some girl you don’t know comes barreling past you to get to the bathroom, and you let him pull you in to make way for her.

Ubbe gets his other hand around your waist, tucking you in close. “You like a man that takes control.” The smoky-sweet whiskey on his breath goes right to your head.

What can you say to that? “Yes, please, daddy.” That damned rule is starting to get you in trouble, making it too easy for you to walk a thin line with Ubbe’s demands, between what Ivar would allow and what he probably wouldn’t.

A gratified smile tugs at the corner of Ubbe’s lip as he stares down at your mouth. He likes hearing you talk to him like that. This is about something more than just that silly game. With no other warning or preamble, he leans in and kisses you so hard you end up pressed against the wall.

Hvitserk got to kiss you. So this should be ok. Your cunt certainly wants it to be ok, kindling quickly with want as Ubbe’s hips grind against yours.

“Are you ready for your punishment,” he murmurs against your lips, “for forgetting to call me ‘daddy’ earlier?”

“Yes, please daddy,” you say easily, abandoning yourself to the game.

“Turn around,” he growls, heavy palms already guiding your hips. “Hands against the wall.”

Ubbe pulls back just far enough for you to spin in the tiny space he’s created. After you place each palm up where he’s asked, he presses your cheek against the plaster and kisses the corner of your mouth in a sloppy, overeager movement. “Good.”

Both of Ubbe’s warm hands start sliding down your body, scooping your curves as he makes his way down to grope your ass.

“You only forgot it once. You should be proud of yourself for that. But I’m still going to spank you three times. Just because _I_ want to.”

The first blow is heavy enough to make you jump a little. You yelp, but the rumbling noise Ubbe makes in your ear sounds dissatisfied. A slight sting rises in the offended flesh. He smooths his hand over your asscheek, past the place he hit you, and starts rolling up your skirt.

“Ubbe!” you exclaim, pulling away from him a little in protest. You keep your hands on the wall like he told you.

“Is that how you address me?” He leans his body in closer, tugging your skirt above your hips and exposing your ruched, cheeky panties to anyone that might walk down this hall.

You gulp a hasty breath before answering him in a softer tone. “Please, daddy, someone could see.”

“Is that really a problem for you?”

You think about it, the cool air on your ass, the sharp, exquisite pain Ubbe’s hand is about to bring there, the concept of strangers’ eyes on your reddening flesh. “No, thank you daddy.”

“That’s what I thought.” He kisses you, and covers the newly exposed skin with his grasping palm. “You have the sweetest ass I have ever had my hands on. We are so lucky that Ivar is willing to share it.”

He gives the opposite cheek a swift, stinging backhand before you can formulate any kind of reply to his words.

“So many things I want to do to this ass.”

He slaps the other side hard and then his hot palm is rubbing soothing circles all over again. He lets your skirt fall back down just as the bathroom door opens. He turns you around and presses heavy, biting kisses into the crook of your neck as the now slightly-less-drunk-looking girl makes her way back up the hallway past you.

Ubbe reaches your ear with a rumbling sound that is all but a literal growl. “I dare you to come back to my room and sit on my face.” His erection is obvious as he rubs his whole body against you.

Now that, you are sure, would be going too far. “Only Ivar gets to make me come,” you say tartly, thrilling with the pleasure of knowing how happy Ivar would be to hear you say that to his brother.

Ubbe’s growl turns frustrated. “I seem to recall something different the last time I was inside you.”

You smirk. “And do you recall that it was Ivar that told me to? To come all over your dick.”

You can feel the vibration of Ubbe’s next rumbling sound, your dirty words only inflaming him to press harder against you, and sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder.

“Careful,” you warn, twisting away from his jaws before they can leave a mark. The powerful rush of denying him feels just about as good as letting him touch you did.

“I am not as careless as Hvitserk,” Ubbe says, his voice coming out heavy and strange. His hands are needy as they try to pull you closer. “Or do you want me to give Ivar another excuse to punish you? Is that the game you’re really playing?” Fingers wide, he grasps the side of your face and kisses you deeply. “And where’s my ‘please, _daddy_?’”

“Thank you for reminding me, _daddy,_ ” you tease, shimmying out of his grip. “I just can’t forget that ‘Sir’ outranks you. I am sure that Ivar is wondering why I have been gone so long, _daddy._ ” You walk backwards as Ubbe clings to your fingertips. “And where _you_ wandered off to, _daddy._ ”

 

* * *

 

Ivar’s face is a little tight when you come back to his corner of the party, his eyes flitting between you and Ubbe trailing behind. You give him your biggest smile and nestle close to him in the plush chair. “Ubbe thought he could tell me what to do, Sir,” you whisper in your boyfriend’s ear. “But I let him know only you get to decide. And only you get to make me come.”

“Is that so.” Ivar’s arm feels like heaven as it slides around your body and pulls you in close. “Good girl,” he whispers back to you, stroking your cheek a few times with his thumb. Then he addresses the rest of the group. “I think Truth or Dare is over.”

Hvitserk looks disappointed. Ubbe’s face is simmering with something deeper. The handful of other guests that had held out through the whole game only laugh like they had been waiting for Ivar to announce that. They get up to leave, and Ivar holds out his hand.

“How about we try another game? Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

Eyebrows lift, and butts return to seats.

“Ubbe,” Ivar says, eyes level and crafty, “Button told me what it was that you wanted. I am feeling… generous. You may take her to your room, to do whatever you two wish, for exactly seven minutes. Door open. And then I will collect her.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ubbe agrees to Ivar’s terms without hesitation or complaint. “Come here,” he coaxes from the edge of the circle, body already turning toward the hall that leads to the stairs. He holds out his hand.

“Yes, please daddy,” you recite, shifting your weight to rise from your boyfriend’s side.

Ivar’s face scrunches. “No more of that,” he dictates. “ _That_ game is over.” He pulls you into a deep kiss, one hand fisting in the hair at the back of your head almost hard enough to hurt. Making Ubbe wait. Not letting you break away when it feels like the kiss has gone on longer than is polite. You sigh and submit, letting your body melt back against him. His hand meanders over your curves, helping himself to a little bit of whatever he wants. Ivar doesn’t let you go until you’re tingling everywhere and slightly breathless. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks softly.

“Yes, Sir, thank you Sir.”

“You like knowing how badly they want even just a taste of you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I like that too. Enjoy yourself with Ubbe. I’ll be watching. Let’s see what he can do with seven minutes.” Ivar smirks. “Warming you up for me.”

You share a smile, then he releases you to cross the room.

Ubbe’s intensity has not abated during that little interlude. The edge of frustration curling off of him has only sharpened his gaze, and as soon as you draw close he ducks his shoulder into your waist and lifts you bodily off the ground.

You yelp in surprise as your head turns upside down, legs kicking uselessly in the air in front of his face. Ubbe’s hand smooths over your rear, making you realize how high your skirt hiked up in the process, and then you scream again when he sinks his teeth into your nearest ass-cheek. “Mine now!” he crows as he strides off to the staircase like some marauding Viking.

The sounds of the party fade as he gets you upstairs and throws you down on his bed. A small desk lamp on the opposite wall provides the only light to show the handsome, bearded face descending toward you. He settles the weight of his body on top of yours, his arms framing your head, but stops just short of a kiss.

“How to spend seven minutes with you in my bed?” he ponders, one eyebrow cocked. He rocks his pelvis against you as he thinks. “When Ivar is the only one that gets to make you come?” His eyes twinkle with mischief. “I suppose that means I get to use you selfishly.” He leans in for a kiss, coaxing your mouth open easily with a soft, inviting tongue. One of his hands slides down the side of your face, pausing only briefly to tease one of your tits before continuing down to the push your skirt up to the top of your thigh. “I’ve been telling you all night, what I’m after. I’m not too shy to fuck you with the door open.”

Your body presses back against his, desperate for the contact.

“I think you want that too,” Ubbe continues. “I think you've been dying for it for hours, to feel something thick between your thighs after all these teasing little games. It has to have been torture for you.”

He’s right; even while being passed between the three brothers, there’s been very little by way of satisfying stimulation. Just a few moments of Ivar ramming his fingers into you, only to pull away when your sounds brought attention.

“Seven minutes to fuck like crazy, what do you say?” Ubbe rumbles against your willing flesh. “You can leave your clothes on,” he offers. “Everything but these.” His hand dives under your skirt to grasp the side of your panties.

You groan and nod, all sense of decency gone at the prospect of finally getting that dick.

Ubbe tugs expertly under the curve of your ass, and your panties hit the floor just as Ivar and Hvitserk appear in the doorway. When a few other curious pairs of eyes appear behind them, you close your knees, pulling your bare legs under the cover of Ubbe’s body.

Hvitserk lets out a low whistle, eyes on the strip of fabric. “Panties off already, Ubbe moves fast!”

“I expected nothing less from this animal,” Ivar declares, resting his weight against the door and trying to act like he’s not a little out of breath. The lack of easy accessibility is why he doesn’t live at the frat house with the rest of them, and the length of the staircase is the only reason Ubbe got the head start that he just did. “I’ll take a little time off the clock since you started without us.” He flips his arm out to look at his wristwatch. “Six and a half minutes left.”

Ubbe’s brow creases like he’s considering arguing, then he lets it go as he coaxes your leg up around his hip and buries his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers slide easily along your slit and you can only guess how drenched he’s found your pussy.

“How wet is she?” Ivar asks.

Ubbe ignores him.

“Be careful with that pussy, it’s mine,” Ivar reminds him, still smirking from the doorway.

“I’m going to fucking destroy it,” Ubbe growls.

You struggle with his belt as his teeth nip at your bottom lip and his fingers plunge, working you open for him. Just six minutes. You’re already panting when you finally release his cock, bouncing out of the clothes that Ubbe pushes down only just as far as he has to.

When he reaches to line himself up, Ivar makes a chiding noise. “Uh uh, get a condom. Your fucking jizz is not allowed to touch her insides.”

Ubbe launches himself to the side, pulling out the drawer in the nightstand and rooting around for a little square packet.

You look up at Ivar; his face is smug and excited. You’re glad he reminded you both to be safe, but you can see he’s also delighting in wasting Ubbe’s brief time.

Ubbe tears the corner of the wrapper with his teeth, but you want to put it on him yourself. He balances up on his knees, back to the door so that only you get to see his erection standing tall. The tip glistens with a bead of pre-cum. It looks so tempting that you duck your head and swirl your tongue over it quickly before you draw the condom out of the wrapper.

Ubbe groans and wraps his hand around the back of your head, urging you to stay there, and take him in deeper.

“Changing your mind?” you hear Ivar taunt from the door. “Going to spend your last five minutes just making my girl work?” He makes a skeptical noise as Ubbe keep pressing himself into your mouth. “Not a terrible choice, she does suck a dick like a pro. But you might want to think of the future, Ubbe. This could be your last chance to impress her, make her want to ask me for another turn with you one day.”

Ubbe pushes harder, cruel hand at the back of your head stopping you from keeping him at a comfortable distance. His thickness fills you until you only have the choice of letting him make you gag or directing him into your teeth. At your first choking cough, he relents, drawing himself back to let you catch your breath. His wild eyes are warm and eager. “Now get that condom on me.”

You swallow hard, soothing your throat, then give his shaft a few more pumps before rolling the condom down over his smooth, sweet hardness.

“Turn around. Hands and knees.”

You have the urge to respond with one more “thank you daddy” but you’re not sure what Ivar would do. You’d hate to ruin things before you got to feel Ubbe driving into you again.

You wiggle your hips just a little as you rotate, presenting your ass obediently to Ubbe. He slides your skirt up and spreads you wide for a moment, giving everyone standing in the doorway a good look at your dripping sex. You purposefully had not let your eyes focus behind Ivar and Hvitserk when you glanced their way, so you have no idea how many strangers and acquaintances have crowded behind him.

But Ivar chose not to come inside. Ivar chose not to shut the door.

“Gorgeous, perfect fucking ass,” Ubbe intones, kneading your flesh before surprising you with a quick slap. His thumb presses down to your center. “You feel ready. Are you ready?”

He penetrates you in a rush before you even get a chance to answer. His thick cock slides in with just enough friction to make you feel every inch, but nothing hurts, nothing catches as he sheaths himself to the hilt with a soft curse.

Ivar is not letting you forget he is there. “She feels glorious, does she not, Ubbe?”

“Fuck her hard,” Hvitserk urges, voice eager and breathy. From the sound of it, you’re sure his own cock is straining inside his pants.

Ubbe doesn’t answer them, but he seems to be in agreement. Grasping hard around your hips, he starts up with a punishing pace, immediately overwhelming your senses with the deep thrusts you’ve been craving all night.

“Arch your back, Button,” Ivar reminds you. “Get your chest down to the mattress so it feels deeper.”

He wants Ubbe to annihilate you. Your hips don’t know whether to pull away or press back against him for more, and Ubbe’s hands won’t let you move anyway. The noises you’re making have already become uncontrollable, the high-pitched yelps that Ivar loves to tease you about.

“There’s my squeaky toy. Turn your face this way, Button, look at me.”

The pressure of Ubbe’s thrusts is driving your cheekbone into the bed, but you manage to push back enough to flip your head to the other side. It’s hard to focus on anything but the obscene pleasure rushing through your core, but you open your eyes to see Ivar step inside the room, taking a seat on Ubbe’s computer chair.

“Do you know how much I love watching you get fucked?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees.

A strained moan comes out of your throat that might pass as an answer as Ubbe seems to somehow reach even deeper.

“Even though I would be doing it much better than Ubbe here. Come on, brother. Put your back into it.”

Ubbe’s response can only be described as a snarl. He pulls out abruptly, and tugs at you to change positions. He guides you onto your back, hooking an elbow behind one of your knees to spread you wide for him before he plunges back inside.

“Creative,” Ivar says as Ubbe stretches your flexibility, body weight pushing your knee into your chest.

Ubbe kisses you, sloppy and deep. He curls his other arm around your head and growls like a beast. His thrusts feel so sharp at this angle, their possessive punctuation giving you the distinct impression he’s trying to hide you from Ivar as best he can without giving up any pleasure of his own.

You lose track of time for a little while, lost under Ubbe’s grinding need to all but split you in half. You only become aware of your surroundings again when you feel an extra hand running down your thigh.

You open your eyes to see Hvitserk kneeling next to the bed, pupils blown wide and his other hand down his pants. Ubbe, grunting and sweating above you, turns his head to see what you are looking at. He swats Hvitserk’s arm away and pushes you closer to the far corner of the bed.

“I don’t think he wants to share this time, Hvitserk,” Ivar laughs. “Speaking of time… there’s only about a minute left. If you plan to come, Ubbe, it’s probably time to start the grand finale.”

Somehow Ubbe manages to press even harder, desperation evident in his clutching fingers and heavy breath. He drops your leg and slams you more squarely, then abandons that pace after only a few thrusts to rear back and lift both your legs up and away from the bed until he is impaling you against his dick.

“Ten, nine, eight—”

Ubbe roars, probably to cover the sound of his brother’s nagging voice as he pistons into you as fast and hard as he can. The foreshadowing of your own orgasm starts to tingle around his raging dick.

“And don’t you dare come right now, Button,” Ivar warns. Your face is so easy for him to read. “Three, two, one… That’s it, time’s up. Come to me now.”

You resist the pulsing pleasure, pulling your hips back from Ubbe right on command. You can feel the reluctance in his fingers, but he lets you go. His cock is still rock hard when you slip off him, bouncing a little in the air before he covers it with his hands.

Ivar’s voice is cutting as he draws your panting and trembling self to the edge of the bed. “Oh, you couldn't seal the deal, Ubbe? So sorry.” He smooths your skirt back down, giving you a moment to collect yourself before he makes you get up. “Maybes you could go find Margrethe to finish up in. Pull her off whoever she's humping right now.” You wince. Ivar tugs your arm toward the floor. “Kneel.”

Eagerly, you drop to your knees, coming up between Ivar’s legs when he draws you close. He leans forward, one hand smoothing down your back and over your ass. His hand thuds into the thickest part of your flesh. “Wanton thing.” He presses between your thighs, finding your cunt sore but still gushing with need. He shoves two fingers up into you and hooks his hand, tugging roughly. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, Sir,” you gasp.

“Whose?” He pulls more cruelly.

“Yours!” you yelp, but he doesn’t seem satisfied as his fingers keep sawing. “Ivar’s!” you try. “Ivar!”

His motions turn gentler. “That’s right, my little slut. I love how much abuse this pussy can take for me.” His fingertips quiver against your g-spot, making you all but wail in his arms. “Are you ready for more? I promise when I finally let you come that it will all be worth it.”

You nod against his shoulder, giggling like a crazy person. “Yes, Sir.”

Ivar slips his fingers out from between your legs, crooning an appreciative noise under his breath. “Then I think we’re done with this party, Button.” He coaxes you to stand, then grabs his cane and launches himself up to his feet. “Hvitserk, let’s go to your room.”

Ubbe, fumbling with his pants on the bed, makes a dumbfounded sound. “Him, and not me? Why?”

“Because, dear Ubbe,” Ivar snarls, rounding back to face him, “he may be overeager, but he knows how to respect my fucking rules. He’s not going to disrespect me all night with something like that ‘daddy’ shit.”

“That's what all of this was about? The way you’ve been cutting me off all night? Just that one dumb little dare?”

“Good night, Ubbe,” Ivar waves, swinging on his cane toward the empty doorway. Hvitserk is just leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking in triumph and staring at your ass.

You duck to retrieve your panties from the floor and give Ubbe one last look. His eyes bore into yours, his mouth parting without any words coming out. “Thank you, daddy,” you whisper to him.

“I heard that,” Ivar says.

You look up at your Dom with only the smallest apology in your face. You like Ubbe, and hate to see his feelings burned too badly.

“Don’t think you’re not going to pay for that little insolence.” Ivar’s grin is dark and entirely too delighted as he stares down at you. “We are going to fill all your needy holes now, Button. We won’t require Ubbe’s help for that, because just today Hvitserk has shown me this enormous, vibrating dildo that he’s acquired. We’re going to work it into you and then take turns spanking that ass until you’re a sobbing mess. Then,” he adds, stepping just a little closer, “I’d like to feel that vibration next to my cock, straining one hole while I fuck the other. Meanwhile, Hvitserk can keep your dirty mouth busy, I’m sure.” He extends his hand. “Let’s go see if something like that is finally enough for you.”


End file.
